


I Could Use Another Cigarette

by Xaurnel



Category: Homestuck
Genre: 420 blaze it, Adoption, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Break Up, Depression, Disownment, Drug Use, Eating Disorders, F/F, F/M, Female Homosexuality, HIV/AIDS, Hearing Voices, Homophobia, Homosexuality, Human, Humanstuck, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Incest, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Marijuana, Masturbation, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Illness, Mental Instability, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Parent/Child Incest, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Recreational Drug Use, Regret, Rimming, SI, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, Shame, Sibling Incest, Smoking, Suicide, The Author Regrets Nothing, Trans Character, Transphobia, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking, Unrequited, binge eating, self-injury, sh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-29 14:52:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xaurnel/pseuds/Xaurnel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Gamzee Makara, and you’re juggalo blessed with the gift to hear the Mirthful Messiahs. </p><p>Your name is David Strider, and you have the most unimaginable crush on your older brother. </p><p>Your name is Tavros Nitram, and you were raped by your female friend. </p><p>Your name is Cronus Ampora, and you're a transgendered male in a homophobic society. </p><p>Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you've been infected with HIV since birth. </p><p>Your name is John Egbert, and you're a gay teenager living under the roof of a strict Catholic father. </p><p>Your name is Latula Pyrope, and your boyfriend has been mentally disabled since you got into a car crash. </p><p>Your name is Sollux Captor, and you have to live with severe, unmedicated bipolar disorder.</p><p>Your name is Kanaya Maryam, and you have to look perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mirthful Messiahs ain't so full of mirth.

Your name is Gamzee Makara, and you’re a nineteen year old juggalo chosen by your messiahs. 

Gamzee pulled an old violin case out from under his bed and pulled it up with him as he sat back up, plopping the beaten up old thing on his duvet. Calloused thumbs quickly flicked the latches and he opened it up to expose the contents. The violin was long gone, and he’d replaced it with his stash and paraphernalia. Two pipes, a short bong, and several empty lighters. Most likely all of them were empty. He had to make a mental note to pick some more up next time he stopped for gas. 

The smell of dried marijuana filled his nose as he took a deep breath, the smell instantly calming him. His body knew what was about to happen, and the bliss he would soon feel. Experienced hands opened the jar he kept his main stash in, carefully selecting a decent sized nug and packing the bowl of his favorite pipe. For some reason, he had the brilliant highdea to soak this glassware in a bowl of faygo for a while. Ever since then, it tasted AMAZING every time he lit up. Though, the taste was fading, sadly.

Where the fuck was his lighter? Fuck. He rummaged around, picking up lighters and holding them to the sunlight filtering through the half-drawn blinds of his bedroom window. Empty… Empty… Empty… Fuck, this one was empty too. Why the hell did he still have these things? Dammit, that one was empty too. 

A light blue lighter was finally scavenged from the heap and he shook it against the light, humming happily as he saw just the slightest bit of liquid through the thin plastic. Hell yeah. 

He placed the pipe between his lips, thumb blocking the ventilation hole with one hand while the other flicked at his lighter. Shit, was it out of fluid? Just when he was about to put it away, he gave one last flick of his thumb and smiled to himself as the flame finally lit. Good. He inhaled shallowly to get the bud lit at first, the crystalized green turning into a bright red cherry at the corner of the bowl where he lit it, smoke wafting away. Gamzee sighed before taking a long drag, stifling the need to cough after he let go of the hole in the side and hit a bunch of smoke at once, and exhaled through his nose, contorting his face into an expression of disgust at the taste that suddenly filled his mouth and nostrils. Ew… Remind him never to do that again. 

A pleasing buzz rattled through his body, painted lips curling into a small smile. Damn, this was some good shit. His brother had really set him up this time. Well, Kurloz hadn’t actually set him up. More like he took it from his grow op after a bad day. The mute adult wouldn’t mind though, he never did. His brother was such a quality motherfucker. 

Gamzee flicked the lighter again, having a bit more trouble this time than before. But, it eventually lit, and he cornered the pipe again. A shiver trickled down his spine as the smoke filled deep in his lungs, capping off after they were full with as much as he could take. He flopped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Smoke was already accumulating in the room. He parted his lips, allowing himself to release the captured smoke in small puffs and watch them dissipate. 

Three hits and he was already feeling good. This sesh might not last long after all. He just needed to get high, then he’d put it away. Just a bit more than a buzz… After all, he promised Tavros he’d quit smoking. Or at least, try to cut back. Hey, at least cigarettes were a big no for him. 

Today he couldn’t keep that promise to Tavros. The juggalo sighed heavily and sat back up, crossing his legs in a bizarre fashion so his feet rest atop his knees. Guilt clenched at his gut and his heart, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Today… Today was just too much for him to handle. 

The voices were back, and louder than before. Two cackling male voices whispering orders to him every waking moment. They only seemed to go away, or at least calm down, when he lit up. The things they said… God… Kurloz told him it was the Messiahs speaking to him, and he should feel blessed, but he didn’t. Though he worshiped his Mirthful Messiahs, they certainly didn’t provide him with much mirth. 

Deep brown eyes flickered to the window. Based on the sun, school was probably out by now. If he wasn’t already in the doghouse for smoking, he would be once Tavros found out he skipped class. A panic attack became too much for him to handle, and he found himself jumping out of the second story window mid algebra lecture. At least he remembered to grab his bag before instinct kicked in and he ran. 

At the memory he felt his ankle begin to throb. He’d landed on it at an odd angle, and though he didn’t feel any pain at the time, it was bothering him now. Probably just a mild sprain. He’d get it looked at tomorrow. 

Gamzee placed the now cashed pipe on top of his windowsill and lay back against his duvet, eyes closed. Smoke swirled around the room, still getting into his lungs with each breath. The hotbox would provide him with a bit of a higher high, there was no need pack it again. He didn’t want to get blazed. 

A soft cackling echoed in his ears. 

Fuck. 

Yes, yes he did want to get blazed. Out of his fucking mind.


	2. This never should have happened...

Your name is Latula Pyrope, and your boyfriend has been mentally disabled since you got into a car crash. 

One year. It had been a full year since the accident.

Latula sighed as she drove home, hands gripping the wheel tightly and her eyes never leaving the road. It was her fault that her lover was brain damaged after the accident. They had run into a large oak tree, and Mituna’s head smashed into the dashboard. She managed to walk away with a broken arm, but Tuna.. He was never the same. 

And the very last thing she said to him was that she wanted to break up. Her heart clenched painfully in her chest. Her car pulled into the driveway and she turned off the ignition, taking a second to stare out the window. She could never forgive herself for that… Even if it was an accident, it was still her fault. She shouldn’t have been looking away from the road in the first place. 

~*~

_“You never do anything around the house. And will you buckle your seatbelt, for god’s sake?!” Latula sighed, completely exasperated by her lazy boyfriend’s lack of effort in their relationship as of late. Not only did he constantly leave the toilet seat up, he made catastrophic messes and never bothered to clean the smallest bit of it up._

_Mituna rolled his eyes and stared out the window, arms folded over his chest. Both of his feet were kicked up on the dashboard, one crossed over the other. Latula was completely tuned out by this point, or for the most part. Eventually some of her bitching would come through, but the majority of the time he had other things on his mind. Kurloz had recently been busted in a set up drug deal, and he couldn’t get his mind off of it. He knew he’d been a dick to Latula lately, but… He couldn’t help it. His best friend was in jail, and they may trace back to his partners… Such as himself._

_She glared at Mituna, taking her eyes off of the road for a split moment. “Sometimes I think that this relationship really isn’t working out.” She said softly, the blonde’s attention snapping to her in a moment and his heart stopping momentarily._

_Was she… Serious?_

_He pulled his feet off of the dashboard and turned in his seat to face her._

_Before he could part his lips to respond, Latula glanced back out the front windshield and shrieked in horror, a child running out into the middle of the road for her ball._

_The little girl froze on the spot, ball clutched in her hands and her eyes wide. The teal haired teenager turned the wheel as hard as she good, trying to step on the brake but accidentally flooring the gas pedal._

_The last thing she could remember was the sound of metal twisting and her body colliding with the airbag._

~*~

She unfastened her seatbelt and slipped out of the car, shutting the door with a bit more force than necessary and began her walk to the front step. 

Latula fumbled with her keys on her keyring, attempting to find the ones to go to her house. Finally, she found the tarnished copper key and stuck it in the lock, jiggling it a bit before she heard the gratifying click, and stuck the keyring back in her pocket. As the door swung open, she was greeted to the vast majority of furniture either completely reversed or flipped upside down. 

Well… She hadn’t been expecting this. Granted, Mituna stayed home today, but he was generally well behaved… At least at home. 

The teal haired girl took a hesitant step into the house, closing the door behind her. “Tuna?” She called, looking around for her boyfriend. Before she could take as much as ten steps in the direction to the living room, a tall blonde boy rushed in and tackled her to the ground. Latula only had a brief moment to brace herself before she fell back on her butt with a grunt, squeaking as her face was covered with happy kisses. She laughed and returned a few of them, smiling as his strong arms wrapped around her.

“TULA!” He squealed happily, nuzzling his beloved girlfriend. He’d been afraid and angry earlier, but now that Tula was home, everything was better! He always felt better with her. 

Latula took his face in her hands, giggling at his confused expression before leaning in and connecting their lips in a gentle, loving kiss. Mituna blushed violently and allowed his eyes to slip shut as he returned it, heart pounding in his chest and feeling absolutely euphoric. 

The younger girl, however, felt her own heart clench painfully in her chest. 

Mituna remembered nothing of the accident. He had no idea of the harsh words she had said earlier that day, or that she had threatened to end their relationship. Even still, she felt horribly, horribly guilty. 

Their lips moved together smoothly as the kiss grew more heated, his grip on her waist tightening as she tangled her fingers into his hair. Moments later they broke apart for air, breathing just a bit more heavily than before. 

“I love you…” She whispered against his lips, kissing him again. 

Mituna returned the gesture, a huge grin spreading over his features as he pulled back. “I love you too, Tulip.” 

And they always would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I'm glad that you like it so far! However, I have a request. I want to try to write little oneshots for ALL the trolls and kids, but there's a small problem: I can't think of issues for them all. As you can read from the summary, each chapter will begin with the name and a basic statement on what's wrong with them. If you could leave ideas for other characters, that would be much appreciated. Thank you for reading!


	3. He didn't say no, so it's okay!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this chapter is bullshit. I'm trying to put up a new chapter every day, and I'm already losing my muse. If y'all could leave ideas, that would be wonderful. I don't know how I'm going to do this all on my own until I get the ball rolling. But until then, most chapters will be rather short. 
> 
> Also, you can experience MAJOR changes to this chapter, so check back soon. I just have to get this out there today to meet my deadline, and I don't have time to work on it this afternoon. 
> 
> Feel free to comment with ideas! And please r&r. It helps tremendously!

Your name is Tavros Nitram, and you were raped by your female friend. 

Tavros lay out in his bed, holding his phone in front of his face with a small frown. Gamzee had been texting him for the past hour, each text becoming more and more slurred and filled with nonsense. The older teenager was either high, drunk, or both. Again. He sighed to himself. Why was he slipping again? It didn’t make sense. His boyfriend was doing so well up until a few weeks ago. 

A knock at his bedroom door jolted him out of his thoughts and he accidentally dropped his phone on his face with a startled squeak. The amputee used his arms to sit up, cocking his head as Vriska entered the room and closed it behind her. The click of the lock was heard, and the Hispanic boy began to grow nervous. 

The black haired girl moved to sit down at the foot of his bed, a smirk plastered over her full and pale lips. “Hey, Tavros.” She giggled, resting a hand on his thigh. He swallowed heavily. 

Last time Vriska visited, she tried to kiss him, and he had to politely ask her to leave. She hadn’t been back since, and that was a good two weeks ago. “Uh… Hi, Vriska.” 

She simply flashed him a smirk in return. 

~*~

Tavros gasped and whimpered softly as her soft hand wrapped around his unwilling erection, face burning in shame. “Vriska, we- Ah… Can’t…” He murmured, gently tugging at her hair to pull her off of his length. In response Vriska growled and shot him another glare, giving his arousal a less than gentle squeeze. The brunette cried out in pain, wincing. “N-Nngh…”

She giggled to herself, “I thought you didn’t want this?” Vriska purred, flicking the pad of her thumb over the tip. Precum was already leaking, and she smeared it over his hot skin. Tavros shuddered, huffing and letting out small pants. Already his member was twitching in her hand. He squeezed his light brown eyes shut, and prayed she would get bored soon. 

“I-I don’t…” 

He and Gamzee never did anything like this. His boyfriend respected the fact that he wasn’t ready to have sex yet, and he was extremely shy about his body. God… Gamzee… What would he think if he knew about this? 

The Hispanic teenager was jerked out of his thoughts as he was enveloped by her warm mouth, gasping loudly and arching his back. Oh, fuck! His hands reflexively moved to tangle in her hair, torn between pushing her further and tearing her off. His mind was torn by lust and desperation, though fear was still evident and swelled in his chest. 

Vriska looked up at him from under her glasses, eyelids hooded with desire. The kid was hot, there was no denying that. And the little gasps and mewls he made were fucking adorable, albeit feminine. She slipped a hand into her pocket and pulled out a condom, giggling at the whine Tavros let out as he released him with a wet “pop”. 

Tavros stared at her, slowly growing more afraid. Vriska tore open the package and pinched the tip, rolling it carefully down his length. The column of flesh pulsed beneath her hand, and she couldn’t help but smile. This reaction was all for her. She was the one causing this. 

As she pulled back to take off her top, Tavros whimpered softly. Having himself been stripped long ago, he felt extremely exposed. He couldn’t cross his arms over himself though, Vriska might hurt him in response. And then again, they were tied above his head. God… He was terrified. He couldn’t move! His heart thundered in his chest and his body trembled as he thought of what was soon to come. 

Pale breasts pressed against his browned chest as she meshed their lips together in a rough, passionate kiss. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, rubbing against his own. A bitter and salty taste filled himself, and he was instantly repulsed. That was his own precum he was tasting, and she wanted him to taste more. Warily, he kissed her back, though his body trembled in fear. He yelped in alarm as she grasped his cock firmly in her hand, moving to position it at her vaginal entrance. 

Both Tavros and Vriska moaned as she sunk down on his length, hot velvety walls clenching down around him. 

~*~Author can’t write heterosexual sex let’s move on~*~

Vriska got off and left not even five minutes after her orgasm. She slipped on her jeans, converse, shirt, and jacket before grabbing her glasses. The fair skinned girl looked over her shoulder as she stood at the door and shook her head, walking back to untie his hands.

Tavros instantly curled into as much of a ball as he could, trembling violently. 

“You never said no… You wanted this.” She hissed before turning on her heel and leaving the room, slamming the door behind her.

A Hispanic seventeen year old was left curled up in his bed, tears streaming down his tanned cheeks. She was right. He never said no. He was terrified, but he never said NO. That one simple fucking word… Could it have ended this? 

He let out a choked sob.


	4. Bitterness and and cleanliness are a perfect match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to undergo some MAJOR revision in the future. As are the others. I'll give you all a heads up for when I've fixed them, if you'd like to go back and read them then. Right now this is more of a writing project, to see if I can get myself to stick to something. Four days in, so far so good! I'm glad others are enjoying this as well.
> 
> And as always, if you have any ideas for the others, leave them in the comment box! I appreciate suggestions from everyone.

Your name is Kankri Vantas, and you will stop at nothing to protect your little brother. 

His brother was angry at the moment because of this, he didn’t understand. He didn’t understand, and he never would. He only wanted what was best for him! Hell, he only wanted to do what would keep his brother ALIVE.

Kankri scrubbed fiercely at the tile floors of their kitchen. Clean… Clean… Everything had to be perfectly clean. If it wasn’t, the germs would get in. If the germs got in, Karkat would get sick. And if Karkat got sick… 

God, he didn’t even want to think about it. 

He paused only to blow a short lock of curly red hair out of his face before he continued to scrub at the cool tile flooring, though it surpassed ungodly clean what may have very well been hours ago. His pale freckled hands were thick with callouses, simply from so much cleaning. He was simply a college student, his oldest brother was the one that earned the money. He didn’t work, but he still had the most in terms of bodily strength because of what seems like simple household chores to most.

To most being the key phrase. 

To Kankri, cleaning wasn’t a way of life, or even a phobia. It was an obsession and fear of something harming his younger brother. The uncontrollable, irrational fear of losing him. Despite the fact he was on more medications than should be fair, he was still terrified of the day that would eventually come. He feared that the only way to keep him safe was to protect Karkat from every unsanitary surface possible. It wouldn’t prevent it, but… Maybe he would have his baby brother for just a little while longer. 

Karkat had been born with HIV, but he wasn’t diagnosed until he was two years old. They didn’t even know his mother had it, and neither did she. It was apparently contracted when she had a rendezvous with a Frenchman that his father hadn’t known about. Shortly thereafter, she contracted a cold right after she had given birth, and died. 

She died. From the common cold. 

This had rattled Kankri immensely. He was just a child when that happened, only a boy. Five years old, and he had no idea why his mother left him. All he knew at the time was that the thing that killed his mother was inside of Karkat as well, and he could lose him. 

Since then he took every precaution he could. 

Their father wasn’t around often, and neither was their oldest brother. They were constantly working to try to pay the bills for Karkat’s treatment, hoping that someday there might be a cure.

But as for now, there wasn’t. 

All the constant fear… The worrying… Wondering, “Is he alright?” “What if he’s having an attack right now?” “What if he’s somewhere he could become ill?” 

These thoughts constantly ran through his mind. So, he tried his best. Supplying the hormonal teenager with more than enough sexual protection, constantly making sure that his house was clean, inspecting his friends and talking to him to make sure they met up to standards. And Karkat thought he was being unreasonable. 

Tears burned at the back of Kankri’s eyes and his scrubbing became more aggressive as he allowed himself to spend more and more time dwelling on the topic. It wasn’t fair… His brother shouldn’t have to suffer like this, and neither should he! 

His breath hitched in his throat and he had to force himself to swallow heavily. No… He wasn’t going to cry. There was no reason to cry. He got over that stage long ago, YEARS ago. He was twenty one years of age, god dammit, and he needed to act like it! 

Kanrki sat up on his haunches and tossed the scrubbing brush across the room in favor of digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, squeezed shut, to stop the burning tears.


	5. The slowest form of suicide (part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that I didn't update yesterday, I'm already starting to stumble with this and hrrrngh. Also, I had a little hissy fit because I can't get the FUCKING PESTERCHUM SHIT TO WORK. Seriously, if anyone knows how to do that fucking coding, let me know. You will be my hero. 
> 
> Anyway, I'll try to put two chapters up today. Sorry this one is so short.

Your name is Rose LaLonde, and your mother dies a little every time she picks up a wine bottle. 

Thankfully she quelled her drinking habits for the duration of her pregnancy with Rose, but as soon as she popped her daughter from her birth canal she was back to the drink. 

Rose grew up with a constant drunk as a mother figure. From an early age, she had learned to clean up the vomit and spilt drinks her mother would leave scattered around the house. She was only ten years old the first time her mom passed out at a bar and didn’t return home for days. At Rose’s tearful questioning as to where she was, Roxy just gave her a pat on the head and a new doll, as if that would make up for all she had taken from her. 

Of course, it never did. 

Fast forward six years, when Rose is now approximately sixteen years of age. Her mother was still just as bad, if not worse, when it came to drinking. She’d taken a liking to dragging home this Jane girl and going at it with her several nights a week. 

As far as Rose new, Jane didn’t even know that Roxy even had a daughter. 

As if on cue, there was a loud moan heard from downstairs, followed by the sound of her mother giggling. 

Rose rolled her eyes and turned her focus back to the task at hand. The blonde teenager tapped away at her laptop, currently deep in a discussion with Dave.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 16:13 --

TT: As I was saying, before my mother so rudely interrupted my train of thought; I believe that your brother is simply trying to display affection with these... Smuppet attacks. 

TG: no rose

TG: no

TG: you dont understand

TG: he does this because he wants to see me suffer

TT: Come now, he's your brother. He has to love you, it is his job. 

TG: well he sure as hell doesn't

TG: and what were you saying about your mom

TT: She has another visitor for the evening. 

TG: jane again

It was at this time that her mother let out a cry of pleasure, something that made Rose want to bite her lip and scream in frustration. She didn’t want to listen to this, for god’s sake, and she shouldn’t have to!

TT: That is correct. 

TT: Listen, I have to go. I'll contact you as soon as I can though. 

TG: night lalonde

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 16:32 --

Rose buried her face in her pillow, hands clasped over hear ears to block out the sounds of her mother's midnight rendezvous.


	6. Forgive me LORD, for I have sinned... (part 1)

Your name is John Egbert, and you live under the roof of an extremely homophobic, Catholic father. 

John cast a worried glance to his shut bedroom door, eyes flickering to the lock. He only relaxed after assuring himself it was safe, and the door was securely fastened. Besides, his father wasn’t even home. Even so, every precaution must be taken. He sighed softly and went over his list. 

Door locked? Check, he’d already been over that. 

Blinds closed? 

His eyes flickered to the window, where they were indeed drawn and shut tightly. 

Check. 

He didn’t necessarily NEED to have that step. But, it still gave him some small sense of security, for god knows why. He wasn’t quite sure himself. 

And last, but most importantly, earbuds plugged in properly? 

John unplugged and replugged the device twice before deeming that yes, they were pushed all the way in and no unwanted noise would escape. 

Check. 

With the nervous habit of biting his lower lip, he flipped open the dark blue lid to his laptop and nestled more comfortably on top of his sheets. Trembling fingers typed in the familiar address, and he hesitated, only once, before pressing the ‘enter’ key. 

Pictures of boys not much older than himself appeared on screen in several erotic situations. The top of the screen read, “ALL ACTORS ARE 18+”. Below that was a selection of videos in a neat column going down the screen, each with a rather appealing preview picture. 

John swallowed heavily, biting his lower lip as his member already began to stir in his loose blue pajama pants. Fuck… Why was he already aroused? This was wrong, disgusting even. But… God dammit, he loved it. 

He carefully selected a free video, blushing a bright shade of red as it opened and started out automatically of a young adult being fucked mercilessly from behind, scrambling for purchase at the wall he was forced against it. The boy was blonde, hair falling into his eyes. You couldn’t see the face of the man in the dominant position here, but you could see his tanned hands gripping tightly the lithe hips of the smaller male in a bruising grip. From the earbuds, John could hear the boy’s every cry and mewl of pleasure, and how he panted and begged for his lover to continue. 

He yanked the earbuds out of his ears and looked around wildly. Fuck! Wait, what…? The door just shut, didn’t it? It just shut! He bit his lower lip nervously and scrambled off of the bed to look out the window. Garage was still closed… No signs anyone had come home. 

The blue eyed boy let out a small sigh of annoyance, mainly with himself. He was just being paranoid again. 

After once again closing the blinds with a snap, John climbed back onto his bed, surprised with the current situation on his screen. He didn’t click pause, did he? And oh…. OH. 

The lithe blonde was on his back, legs pulled back as far as they could go and completely exposing his most intimate areas. His soft pink skin was completely hairless, down to the downy fuzz. Also exposed was the tight, dusky hole that had been violated just moments before. The blonde panted heavily, eyes closed and head laid back as he allowed the semen inside of him to slowly dribble out, trembling and twitching as the aftershocks of his orgasm hit him. 

John’s trembling hand moved to tuck itself beneath the waistband of his pajama pants, wrapping around his member in a way that made him shudder and whine softly. He used the other hand to put the earbuds back in his ears, cock twitching in the other as he once again heard the beautiful sounds spilling from the blonde’s mouth. 

He shifted uncomfortably and pulled the pajama pants down around his hips, hissing softly as his hot skin hit the cool air, and glanced back to the screen as his hand slowly stroked his erection with gentle, fleeting touches. 

The tan boy from before buried his face between the other’s thighs, out of view of the camera. And whatever it was made the porn star _SCREAM._ The teenager began to pant more heavily than before, fingers moving down to tangle in the dom’s black hair, tugging at it gently. The darker skinned male moaned in response and the cameraman moved, angling the camera in such a way so the viewer could clearly see a light pink tongue circling that dusky hole, probing it occasionally.

John’s breath hitched in his throat and his eyes widened, unconsciously spreading his own thighs further apart. The boy on the screen was screaming this much, how good could it even really feel? Getting your asshole touched, that is. He’d never tried it before. 

As the video continued to play, John leaned over to his dresser and opened the drawer, pulling out a bottle of hand lotion he kept in case of… Times like these. He tossed the bottle onto the pillow next to him, and moved the laptop beside him as well before laying on his back and pushing his pajamas further down his thighs. 

He could care less about what was on the screen now, all he wanted to hear was the incredibly arousing sounds. He grabbed the bottle, none too gently, and uncapped it to pour a bit into his hand, near his fingers. Fuck, what the hell was he even doing? 

It was just an experiment. It didn’t mean anything. John grumbled to himself and spread his thighs, allowing his eyelids to fall closed as he moved his hand between his thighs, trembling nervously. Hell, this couldn’t feel that good, could it? The people in the clip were just actors. He continued to think to himself until he allowed his fingertips to press against the clean but naturally dusky ring of muscle, the cold of the lotion making him stiffen. But, there was something about it… John tried again, gently massaging the outer ring with the lotion covered finger.

Oh.

_OH._

John gasped and bit his lip, continuing with his gentle ministrations and attempting to ignore his cock. He whined softly and fought against the need to make slightly louder sounds. He couldn’t explain it, but just touching this area felt good… Really good. 

His free hand stroked the throbbing shaft of his erection, fingertips occasionally brushing against the scar left from his circumcision and making him shiver. The teasing he was giving himself was unbearable holy shit why was he even doing it?! If he wanted more, he should give himself more attention! 

Slowly, John pushed his index finger past the virgin hole and winced in discomfort. It wasn’t _PAINFUL_ , per se. But it definitely wasn’t comfortable and pleasurable either. Still, he allowed the single digit to pump in and out of his body. He shuddered and made a soft noise, the discomfort ebbing away to a slight bit of pleasure. Experimentally, he crooked his finger like he’d seen guys do to themselves in masturbation videos. What was the big deal with that anyway? He didn’t understand what the hype about this was.   
And then, he found it. Just barely, the pad of his finger brushed against one of the most sensitive parts of his body for the first time. Fuck, was that… Was that just some kind of accident? What was that?!

He curiously pushed against the spot again, this time unknowingly hitting dead on. John let out a sharp cry, throwing his head back, hitting it on the wall like a fucking dork. 

Oh, FUCK! 

Whatever that was, he wanted more. He wanted more more more more. John didn’t even notice the slight stretching burn as he pushed the second finder into his quivering body. The two fingers were forced in and out, the teenage boy they belonged to panting and mewling like he had forgotten all about whatever risks may lay ahead… Which he had. 

John’s other hand wrapped around his throbbing erection, desperate to find release. Just that magical spot alone wasn’t enough, he needed MORE. His breathing picked up and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest against his ribs, entire body spasming from the almost overwhelming pleasure. A familiar, but more intense heat began to coil in the bit of his stomach and his muscles stiffen. 

The video stopped about thirty seconds ago, but he still had the noise-canceling earbuds in. He couldn’t hear his cries and mewls of pleasure, nor did he hear the car pull into the driveway. 

It was only a few minutes later when his back arched and all his muscles seemed to contract and relax simultaneously, whimpering as thick white ropes of semen coated his hand and stomach. John slowly pulled his fingers from his anus, wincing slightly at the sudden difference. It wasn’t going to be fun having something bigger than his fingers inside of him. Wait, when would that even happen?! He wasn’t a homosexual, that was disgusting! He was just… Confused! Confused and curious. 

John sighed and sat up, reaching over for the box of tissues to clean himself up. It was only after he cleaned completely his torso and hands that he looked up out of paranoia to the door. There was never anyone there, but it was always nice to check and reassure himself. There was never anybody there…

But this time, there was.

John’s father stood in the doorway to his son’s room, key in hand. His eyes flickered from the screen that still showed gay porn and the fact he walked in on his son fingering himself, he put two and two together. Dark eyebrows furrowed and his expression turned to one of anger and disgust, parting his lips to say--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you can see I don't have a penis, and I don't write sex well. So I'm sorry for that.   
> Also yes there will be more to this, I promise. But it was getting long and I haven't published anything in a bit. 
> 
> You'll have to wait until next time to hear what Mr. Egderp has to say. 
> 
> The author is a horrible, sadistic woman.


	7. It's what's best for him, and that's all that matters.

Your name is Dirk Strider, and you’re about to make the most difficult decision of your life. 

Dirk glanced over his shoulder at his baby brother, curled up in CAL’s arms while sleeping soundly. The babe whined softly in his sleep and adjusted himself, tucking his head under CAL’s chin. Dirk smiled sadly, then turned back to flip through the phone book. 

His hands were trembling and his body tensed as he searched for the number. Page after page he flipped through, secretly hoping that the number he was looking for wouldn’t even be there; it wouldn’t exist. But no. Finally, he found it. TARE. Texas Adoption Resource Exchange. 

He bit his lower lip and picked up the cordless phone, staring at it for the longest time before cursing and slamming it back down on the table. Fuck… He couldn’t do this… FUCK! He couldn’t give up Dave. But…. 

Dirk turned around to watch the sleeping toddler again, a small smile on his lips. He couldn’t take care of him, no matter how much he wanted to. He had a shitty dead-end job as a DJ that would keep him away all hours of the night when Dave needed him most. The job paid so badly that he could barely keep food on the table for himself, let alone the growing boy. He was nineteen, for fuck’s sake! Dirk didn’t have a partner, a home… He couldn’t provide for him. If Dave stayed, he… He would grow up to be miserable.

The blonde sighed and removed his glasses, folding them and putting the cool shades aside. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, picking up the phone again. Tears welled in bright orange eyes as he dialed the number and listened to it ring. 

_BRRRRRRRR_

_BRRRRRRR_

_BRRRRRR_

They weren’t picking up. Dirk considered hanging up the phone and rushing to pull his brother in his arms, never to let him go. Would they not answer? Could he keep him? 

_“Hello? Texas Adoption Research Exchange, how may I help you?”_

Fuck. 

He ran his fingers through his hair, a single tear slipping down his cheek as he turned around to face Dave, watching the small child sleep. 

_“Hello? Is anyone there?”_

He sighed and took a deep breath, “Yeah… Yeah, uh… I want to put my child up for adoption.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dirk smiled sadly and knelt in front of Dave, untangling his pudgy limbs from those of the puppet. “Hey, little man…” He hummed and pulled the squirming toddler into his arms. “Have a good nap, broski?” 

Dave squirmed slightly and yawned, rubbing his eyes with tiny pudgy fists. He looked up at him with a rather grumpy expression as if to say, _‘The fuck, Bro? I was having a killer nap there, man.’_

The orange-eyed male laughed at first, adoring the cute disgruntled expression. The laughter turned into sobs as he held Dave close to his chest, rocking back and forth with the child. “I’m sorry, Dave… Bro can’t take care of you anymore. I-I… I’m doing this because I love you…” A shuddering sob wracked his body, Dave seeming confused and concerned. He reached up to pap his cheek and gurgle quietly. 

“Bo?” Dave asked, both hands on his cheeks. He didn’t understand what was going on. All he knew was that the big man that takes care of him was sad.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dirk took a step into Dave’s room for the first time in a week. As soon as he did, painful memories of that last hug came into his mind. He recalled how he had to be convinced to hand him over, telling him that it was “for the best”. It was, but still… He didn’t want to let him go. Eventually he had handed Dave over into the adoption agent and waved goodbye, tears pooling in his eyes as Dave began to kick and scream, shrieking for “Bo”. The older Strider fell to his knees, watching as the door swung shut and he saw his brother’s face for what would most likely be the last time. 

And now, here he was in his nursery. He walked over to the crib and picked up a small stuffed bear, holding the tiny toy in his broad hand. 

God, the kid loved this thing… 

He held it to his chest and hung his head, allowing his eyes to slip shut as he cradled what remained of his brother’s memory at home. 

It was for the best… And that was all that mattered.


	8. Caught like a fly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is just some bullshit I spouted out in class with no particular meaning behind it. I just figured it was about time I updated and I was bored. This will probably undergo massive revisions. But, here you go for now. First draft.

Your name is Vriska Serket, and you haven’t heard a nice word from your mother in years. 

Granted, when you were younger, things were okay. She wasn’t the best mother, but she was good enough. Giving you the necessities, the occasional hug or kiss, worrying when you were sick… It was an average childhood. 

For the most part. 

Your mother is a single mom, raising you and your older sister, all by herself. It took her a while, but she climbed the corporate ladder, trying to give you and your sister the best life possible. However, the further above she reached, the less time she had for you and Areana. Areana became your mother figure, in a way, as you saw less and less of your own mother. To be honest, you were lucky if you saw her thrice a week. 

Areana tried her best, she really did. But it wasn’t the same. Since their mother worked, she didn’t have to, and focused on her studies. And, as she grew older, studies came first, then you. 

So your family abandoned you. You had friends… Right? 

Wrong. 

You have always been a natural “leader”, AKA a completely bossy bitch. And, with this, no one really liked you. Sure, you had Tavros, but… You mainly bullied him into being your friend so you didn’t have to be so alone. 

No friends. No family. At least it was quiet, right? 

Wrong again. 

You had come to learn to dread visits from your mother and the anger she unleashed upon you. All the harsh words, the warnings that you would amount to nothing. The screaming, slamming doors, threats to kick you out of the house, all when you were only thirteen years old. 

You hated school, but you also hated home. There was nothing you could escape you; no safe haven to hide from the world. 

Middle school was an obvious battle, but home should’ve been where you could come to relieve yourself from the tension that came with puberty and public school. But instead, what you got was hate and fear. 

Every day coming back from school, you found yourself ensnared in the web of a spider. But, strangely enough, the spider didn’t hurt you. Not physically. Instead, it forced you to endure mental torment that can’t even be described. You were trapped. The thread was so sticky, you couldn’t escape. No matter how much you struggled, the vibrations would just catch the attention of the spider more frequently. 

Your name is Vriska Serket, and you’re a fly trapped in a web.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What was that bullshit


	9. Just a taste, just a little taste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter involves eating disorders, so turn away now if that's a trigger. However, this is not the eating disorder most people tend to think of when those two words come to mind. This girl is not horrifically skinny and malnourished. She is, in fact, quite the opposite. This girl suffers from Binge Eating Disorder, or BED. She refuses to believe it though, because only skinny people can have eating disorders... Right? 
> 
> As a sufferer of BED, this was hard for me to write, but I needed to do it.

Your name is Jane Crocker, and food is the only thing you can turn to. 

You sit cross-legged on your bed, plate of cake in hand as she toyed with it with her fork. The frosting, so perfectly spread and decorated, was lovely to see. You’ve worked very hard on this cake, and it was almost a shame to eat it. Maybe you could put it back…? 

Just as Jane was about to stand to head back to the kitchen, the echoes of cruel words chattered through her mind, causing her to flinch and baby blue eyes to tear up. Taking the fork, she stabbed a big chunk of delightfully moist chocolate cake before shoving it in her mouth. Sweet frosting exploded in flavor in her mouth and she sniffled softly before chewing it slowly and swallowing heavily. 

As she swallowed, she looked down and sighed softly before placing a hand over her bulging stomach. Disgusting. Fatty. Lard. All the names she had been called over the course of several years were now coming back to haunt her once again. And in response, she found she could only find comfort in cake. Her friends were a drunk, a clinger, and the third one was just… Odd. Cute, but odd. 

And so, she found she could only turn to what John called the “batter witch”. Betty Crocker, the woman that had given her hours upon hours of unconditional comfort. Moist chocolate cakes, delectable devil’s food, sweet strawberry shortcake… Everything. She’d tried and tasted every product, and the sweets would always soothe her… If just for a little while. 

How did this even happen? How did she develop this need to BINGE? It’d been going on for so long… She couldn’t even remember. The first time she turned to food for temporary comfort, the first time she ate until her stomach was literally aching and she was crying in pain, the first time she stuffed herself to the point she had to stumble to the sink and vomit because she ate too much, all while finding she was unable to just STOP. WHY COULDN’T SHE STOP?! 

Tears slipped down her cheeks, giving her next mouthful of cake a salty hint as she openly sobbed. Half the cake was already gone, and it was a rather decent size. That must be well over a thousand calories… Two thousand… Maybe more. However much it was, was just going to grow to her ever growing waistline. Almost a woman’s pant size twenty, two hundred and sixty five point three pounds, every time Jane looked in the mirror, she was repulsed by what she saw. 

Her “love handles” hung far too far down, and she could fit the roll of fat in the entirety of her hand before she felt her pubic bone. It was too much of a hassle to shave her pubic hair, but she tried to keep it trimmed. It was simply too hard to reach. If she lifted the fat, there was a line over her pubic bone where the skin was discolored due to stretching. And the stretch marks… They littered her entire body. Her swollen breasts had the stripes near her arms and beneath them. Her lower back, waist, stomach, thighs, arms… Everywhere was fat. All her friends were so lithe and slender and could do so much more than her, fit in so many more places. 

Fat. Whale. Pig. Oink, oink, oink. She’d heard it all before. Even though the names have been going on for so long, she still found that each time, they hurt… Terribly. The words would hit her heart and soul like bullets from a gun, and the barriers she put up could only last for so long. 

If only she could stop. If only she could put down the fork and spoon, and turn her nose up to food for once. 

But… She can’t… No matter how hard she tried, within a week, she was back in the kitchen, making up an excuse to stuff her face once again. Just a little bit, a small cake, she’d tell herself. Just a taste. 

Just a taste. 

Just a taste. 

And sure enough, that taste turned into the entire cake before she knew it. 

At the rate she was going, she’d die from complications due to obesity. 

Roxy, her drunken friend, attempted to confront her while sober one time. She said that she had an eating disorder of some kind. How dare she?! How could that stupid drunk even think for ONE moment that she had an EATING DISORDER? She was too fat to have a disorder. People with eating disorders were skinny, right…? 

Jane actually found herself sometimes envying anorexics and bulimics, wishing she had their strength and willpower to make their bodies more attractive. And even the thin that repulsed most people had her utterly spellbound, simply because it was the exact opposite of her own condition. And, people made of bones were still treated better than people made of lard. 

And there we go. While she’d been lost in her thoughts, the entire cake was finished, now only crumbs remained in the tray. Eyes watering with tears, her mouth watered with saliva at the thought of eating more, how she needed to feel better. The uncomfortably full feeling was settling in, and her self-hatred was growing, but she still felt that need. 

Maybe… ONE more cake couldn't hurt. Just a taste. 

Just a taste.


	10. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. (PART 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first part of a chapter, the next one will be much shorter and explain how she lost her hearing, from Kurloz's point of view. So enjoy your semi-happy chapter! Until next time...

Your name is Meulin Leijon, and it’s been two long years since you’ve been able to hear the birds chirping outside your window. 

Everyone tried to warn her, that getting involved with a gang member would lead to no good. But Meulin insisted that he was different. After all, he saved her life.

Meulin was sixteen years old that faithful night walking home from her friend Meenah’s apartment. Well, they weren’t exactly FRIENDS, but they didn’t hate each other either. At least, she didn’t hate Meenah. The younger teen was just happy to spend time with anyone. 

It was late that night, almost eleven. But she’d fallen asleep and it wasn’t until her worried mother called that she noticed the time. And so, Meulin had to make her way home alone. In the dark. On the “other side of the tracks”. Meenah had her own apartment in the slums of the town, after running out on her psycho mom. But it was a nice enough apartment, for a seventeen year old on minimum wage. Meenah was street wise, so this area of the town was no problem for her. Meulin, on the other hand… Well… 

Meulin grew up in a lower middle-class suburban neighborhood, and couldn’t hold a candle to the stories of hardships from her other friends that grew up in the rougher areas. She was a suburban teenage white girl. Smartphone, starbucks, Instagram, the whole nine yards of the stereotype. But, she wasn’t stupid. In the top of her class, academics couldn’t prepare her for navigating the streets of the slums. 

Tiny fists clutched to the straps of her backpack as she walked through the dimly lit streets, her only source of light lamps that illuminated from windows or the occasional flickering street lamp. The streets were empty, unusually silent, enough to send a chill up her spine. Every footstep seemed to echo, and she could hear her heart pounding in her ears. _Just breathe_ , she told herself, _breathe, and you’ll be just fine._

Or, so she hoped.

They had grabbed her, pulled her into an alley. She couldn’t gasp, she couldn’t scream, she didn’t have time to do anything before at least six hands were attempting to rip her clothes off, one shoving a makeshift gag from a dirty hankie in her mouth. Meulin would shriek around it, thrashing wildly, but it was no use. They were strong; much stronger than she could even attempt to compare to. Her pastel green blouse was ripped from her body, buttons scattering about. Breasts forcibly groped and a knee shoved between her thighs, she managed to let out a strangled scream from behind the gag, crying out in pain as her long brown hair was gathered into a ponytail and yanked back to expose her throat.

Next she knew, she was on the ground, the sound of shouting and heavy footsteps running… Away from her? 

Timidly, she would crack open one olive green eye, just as a man with a black surgical mask and wild, dark brown hair knelt beside her, examining her carefully. 

She gasped, instinctively covering her exposed breasts with her arms, lifting one hand to pull out the hankie while still maintaining as much modesty as she could. “P-Please…” The girl whimpered, “Don’t hurt me….” 

The man didn’t speak, and simply raised an eyebrow, deep brown eyes void of emotion. Without a word, he stood, towering over her. 

Meulin cowered in fear, still trembling post-trauma. Eyes squeezed shut, she braced herself for the worst. 

What she hadn’t expected was for a bundle of black fabric to plop down in her lap. 

It was warm. 

She peeked up at the stranger to see him shaking out his head, jacket now gone and leaving him in a dark purple tee. The skeleton hoodie he donned before was in her lap. 

He gave her a questioning look, as if to ask her why she hadn’t put it on yet. Breasts fully exposed in twenty degree weather couldn’t be comfortable. 

In the end, the tall stranger ended up walking her home, the entire three mile walk. He stood at her driveway with her, and would only nod his head or shake it in response to her statements or question, giving the occasional amused snort. 

“W-Would you… Would you like your jacket back?” She asked softly. 

He shook his head, surgical mask still in place, but the slight crinkle of the corner of his eyes showed her he had a small smile over his lips. 

Days later, she found out his name. Kurloz. Kurloz Makara. And he went to her school! Granted, he was only there for part of two out of five days in the week, the infamous rebel had her head over heels. Her prince in a skeleton hoodie. Never mind the fact she knew next to nothing about him, he saved her life! And she was going to find a way to get near him again. 

Weeks of asking around and searching, she finally ran into the tall, dark, attractive male. From that point on, she tried her best to see him as often as possible… And it worked. 

The two eventually became close friends. Over the months that passed by, Meulin had even succeeded in coaxing him out of his selective mutism, to an extent. He spoke short, two to three word sentences to her on the occasion. 

She would never forget the first time he spoke her name. 

_“Meulin.”_

The word was soft in his raspy growl of a voice, but the care behind it was clear. His rough, calloused hand caressed her pale blushing cheek before pulling down his mask to press his lips to her own. 

It was from that point on that Meulin Leijon and Kurloz Makara were a loving couple. Two weeks for their friendship to develop. Three months for the courage to build for Kurloz to initiate their first kiss. Seven months for the three words, “I love you”, to be exchanged for the first time. A year for Meulin to make the decision to give herself to her boyfriend completely. 

He was her first love, the first person she became intimate with. Though Meulin wasn’t his first when it came to intimacy, she was the first he found that he actually cared for. 

This was where their problems began. 

Now, it was well known that Kurloz was in high favor of the gang he belonged to. The boss’ right hand man, rumors said. Meulin was well aware of this, and more than aware of the possible dangers that would follow with seeking romantic relationships with such a person. As long as she stayed out of trouble, she could handle it. Everything would be fine. 

It was, and they were happy.


End file.
